


Bring Your Adoptive Son to Work Day

by Kn1ghtShade



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Parent-Child Relationship, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29974755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kn1ghtShade/pseuds/Kn1ghtShade
Summary: Michael spends some quality time with his parents.Mostly fluff, with some light angst thrown in for variety. I really enjoy the Ranboo/Tubbo/Michael family dynamic, so I decided to write about it.
Relationships: Ranboo & Michael, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Michael, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Michael
Comments: 13
Kudos: 530
Collections: Completed fics I read, Completed stories I've read





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To prevent any confusion:
> 
> Ranboo = dad  
> Tubbo = papa
> 
> Also, Michael is pretty significantly older in this fic than he is in canon. I haven't picked out a specific age for him, but I was aiming for somewhere between 6 and 8.

Michael shrieked with laughter as he sprinted down the hallway, ignoring the panicked calls of his parents behind him.

“Michael! Get back here this instant!” His papa’s voice echoed down the hall. He heard his dad’s footsteps behind him, muffled by the carpet.

“No!” He yelled, rounding a corner. He clutched his well-earned prize close to his chest, adrenaline rushing through him. He risked a glance behind him; His dad wasn’t far behind. He sped up, the thrill of the game making him briefly lose sight of where he was going.

He ran into a flowerpot and tripped, crashing into the ground. In his panic to catch himself, he dropped the redstone dust he was holding, causing a plume of dust to shoot up from where he fell.

“Michael!” His dad sounded panicked as he approached the wreckage. Michael was too busy half-coughing half-laughing to notice.

Ranboo knelt down next to his son, giving him a once-over checking for injuries. Finding none, he let out a sigh of relief, followed by a round of coughing as he inhaled some of the redstone dust that now covered both the hallway and the pair on the ground.

“Michael,” He said again, more reproach in his voice as the air began to clear. “What were you doing?”

Michael was giggling, entirely immune to the reprimanding look his dad was giving him. “My dust!” He yelled, fruitlessly grabbing at the air in an attempt to gather it back up. Ranboo sighed.

“You know your papa was using that to fix the melon farm. Now look at what you’ve done. There’s redstone all over the hallway.”

Michael looked behind him to discover that, in addition to the pile of dust he now sat in, there was a trail of it following the path he’d made as he’d run from his papa’s work area. The sight only served to redouble his laughter.

“My dust!” He repeated through wheezing laughs. Ranboo looked down at his son, annoyance starting to fade. He never could stay angry for long.

“If it’s your dust,” He said, standing up and brushing himself off, “then you can be the one to clean it up.”

“Nooooooo-!” Ranboo smirked as the laughter immediately melted off of Michael’s face, replaced by a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Papa’s dust! It’s papa’s dust!”

“That’s not what you said just a minute ago.” Ranboo sidestepped his son, picking up the tipped over flowerpot and resettling the dirt inside. “I expect this hall to be clean when I get back. If you’re quick enough, maybe your papa will even let you help him with the melon farm before you have to go to bed.”

“Noooooooooooooooooooo-!” Michael wailed, flopping over dramatically. Ranboo watched the scene, amused.

“That’s what happens when you take things that aren’t yours.” He started down the stairs, heading toward the entryway.

Michael looked up from the floor, watching his dad curiously. He jumped up and dusted himself off, then darted down the hall, determined not to be left behind.

“Wait!” He jumped down the stairs, nearly tripping again at the bottom. He looked up to meet his dad’s worried gaze, countering with a grin. “Where’re you going?”

“Mining.” Ranboo grabbed his armor from a stand and started fitting it over his current clothes. Michael watched him, fascinated by strange, glowing material.

“Why you mining?”

“Because your papa can’t seem to stop spending my money, so I have to go get some more.”

“Why?”

“Because having Foolish build a water slide is something that’s very important to him, apparently.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. He thinks it’ll be fun.”

“Why?”

Ranboo squinted suspiciously at his son. “Try a different question.” Michael watched him finish buckling his armor and grab his sword. The netherite blade shimmered dangerously in the torchlight.

“Can I come?”

The question caught Ranboo off guard. He glanced back at his son, who looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Ranboo immediately looked away, determined not to get sucked in.

“It’s getting dark out, and there’ll be mobs in the mines. It’s too dangerous.”

Michael fashioned his features into a practiced pout, making his eyes as big and innocent as he could. “But you’ll be there to protect me!”

“It’s too dangerous.” Ranboo repeated, pointedly looking anywhere except at his son. Michael crept forward and hugged his dad’s leg, looking upwards pleadingly.

“I’ll be extra careful, I promise! Please?” He dragged out the _please_ , gazing upwards with as much innocence as he could muster (which, being as young as he was, was a considerable amount). 

Ranboo made the mistake of looking down. His mismatched eyes met his son’s pleading ones, and he knew he had lost this battle.

“Alright, but only if you promise me you’ll be careful, and listen to _everything_ I say.”

“YES!” Michael shouted, Ranboo wincing at the volume. Michael instantly settled down, the faux-calm look on his face betrayed by the excitement in his eyes. “I promise I’ll be careful, dad.”

“Okay. Okay.” Ranboo pulled out his communicator and sent a message to Tubbo, anxiety surging. He strode over to one of the chests and started rifling through it, muttering to himself. “I think I’ve got some spare armor here… it’s only iron through, and way too big for you.” He paused, looking at Michael worryingly. “Here, I’ve got a ton of diamonds in my ender chest, I’ll just make you a set real quick.”

“Yay!” Michael bounced up and down, unable to contain his excitement. “I’m getting my own armor!”

It didn’t take Ranboo long to make the armor, his experienced hands moving with blinding speed over the crafting table as Michael watched. Actually getting Michael into the armor took a lot longer, with Ranboo having to show him each buckle and latch. It was heavier than Michael expected, but it was still easy enough to move around. By this time, Tubbo had made his way down the stairs and was hovering over both of them.

“Are you sure you have it tight enough, Ranboo? The chestplate looks a little loose.” Tubbo murmured. “And you’ve latched the boots too tight, he’s going to lose circulation in his feet-”

“It’s fine, I know how to put on armor, Tubbo.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“He really wanted to go, and you know I can’t say no to him.”

“God, Ranboo, you’re such a pushover. Are you sure he’ll be okay? What if he gets hurt?”

“I have it under control, but you can come if you want.”

“No, no, I wanted to finish this melon farm tonight.”

Michael’s gaze darted back and forth between his two parents, having completely lost track of the conversation other than that they were worried. He shifted impatiently, eager to be off.

“Micheal, you promise you’ll do everything your dad says?” His papa asked, finally looking at him.

“Yeah!” Michael nodded eagerly, edging toward the door.

“And you’ll be careful? Both of you?”

“We’ll be fine, Tubbo.” Apparently papa’s worrying was starting to get on dad’s nerves too, although dad had been doing the exact same thing before papa had gotten there.

“If you say so.” Papa gave them one last uncertain look over before stepping back, finally satisfied. “Have fun!” He called, watching the door swing shut after them.

The cold air instantly nipped at Michael’s face, making him scrunch up his nose. He stuck close to his dad as they made their way through Snowchester. Michael looked around furtively as they walked, taking in the sights. It wasn’t often he got out of the house.

Even though Ranboo and Tubbo’s mansion was large - unnecessarily large, really - Michael was still more than familiar with it, and was always eager to see more of the outside world.

He loved his parents, and they were wonderful, really they were, but they did get a bit overprotective sometimes.

Then again, Michael thought, shivering as they passed the prison with its giant looming towers and flowing lava, maybe such protectiveness wasn’t entirely unwarranted.

“Hey dad.” Michael said, darting forward so that he was walking side-by-side with his adoptive father. “How come when you pick up grass, it’s like, actual grass. But when I do it, it’s just dirt.”

Ranboo glanced down at the grass block he’d been unconsciously passing between his two hands as he walked, suddenly becoming aware he was doing so. He glanced back at the path, wondering how or when he’d acquired it.

“Uh, it’s because I’m part enderman. Y’know the tall black guys you’ll see hanging around the house sometimes?”

Micheal bobbed his head. “There’s a lot of those guys. Aren’t they a mob? How come there’s so many of them, but not the other mobs?”

“They are a mob. And I’m not sure why there’s so many of them.” Ranboo rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly. “There were a lot when I was living out in the tundra, too… I don’t know why that happens.”

“What’s a tundra?”

“It’s a snowy biome.”

“Oh! Wait, but then don’t you live in a tundra right now? Because I live in a snowy biome, and you live with me. Do you have a secret house?” 

“I- what?” Ranboo laughed at the unexpected question. “No, because a tundra doesn’t have any trees. I think. There’s a lot of trees around Snowchester.”

“Oh, okay. Are we there yet?”

Ranboo chuckled and departed from the wooden path they’d been walking on. Michael followed eagerly. “Almost. It is pretty far, but I wanted to keep the mine away from the house, and away from-” He cut himself off, but not quickly enough to escape Michael’s notice.

“Away from what?” By now, they were far away from most buildings, and Michael glanced behind them. A wide sprawl of builds could be seen from their position, a faint glow starting to become visible as the sun got lower in the sky. The Dream SMP, in all its glory.

It looked beautiful from a distance, and Michael, who had never been close enough to see any different, was enraptured by the sight.

Ranboo followed his son’s gaze to the greater SMP, and something ached deep within his chest. From this distance, it was impossible to see the glittering blood vines that covered the towers and crept along the prime path. From this distance, the crater that used to be L’manburg was just glass that refracted light from the now-setting sun, causing rainbows of color to be reflected off its surroundings.

From this distance, the prison - huge, lurking, menacing - was too far away to make out, just a small black blob on the water.

“...Just away from the house.” Ranboo said quietly, taking Michael’s hand and giving him a gentle tug. Michael instantly turned and followed, the lure of mining distracting him from the shimmering lights of the SMP.

The mine was over the next hill. Ranboo placed the grass block he’d been holding by entrance, restraining himself back from picking up another. The sight of Michael charging head-first down the steep staircase did nothing to calm his nerves.

“Michael, wait up!” Ranboo called, hurriedly following him down. “It isn’t properly lit down there, there might be mobs!” To his relief, nothing had spawned at the bottom of the staircase, and Ranboo was quick to place torches anywhere that had so much as a hint of shadow.

“How come you’ve got so many chests down here? And furnaces? And pickaxes?” Michael looked up from where he’d been digging through a chest. “Don’t you only need one pickaxe? Also there’s sooooo much redstone in here.”

“Don’t touch the redstone, you’ll get dust everywhere.” Ranboo paused, frowning, some sense of familiarity hitting him at the mention of redstone. “Hold on, did the stuff you spilled back at the house ever get cleaned up?”

Michael froze from over where he’d been digging through the chests. Ranboo shook his head in amusement, deciding to let it slide.

“I’ve got multiple pickaxes because they have different enchantments.”

“Really? Like what?” Micheal went back to digging through the chests, clearly relieved.

“Like silk touch, unbreaking, fortune…” Ranboo walked back over to Michael, satisfied now that the entire room was spawn-proofed. 

“Can I have a pickaxe?”

“Sure, I can make you a stone one.”

“Can I make it?”

Ranboo paused and glanced at his son, surprised. “Uh, sure. Don’t see why not.” He looked back in the chest and chuckled. “We definitely have enough cobblestone.”

It took him a few tries, but with Ranboo’s help, it didn’t take him long to figure it out.

“That’s so cool.” Michael whispered, holding the pickaxe reverently. Ranboo was practically vibrating with pride and happiness. 

“Hiya!” Michael yelled, swinging wildly at a stone block. The insulted look on his face when it didn’t immediately break was enough to give Ranboo another laughing fit.

“Here, you’ve got to use your arm and back muscles.” He explained. “You can’t just expect gravity to do all the work. And even then, it’s not going to break in one hit.”

A few minutes of coaching later, Michael held a cobblestone block, an elated Ranboo hovering behind him. 

“That’s tiring.” Michael complained, stuffing the cobblestone into his inventory. 

“It is, isn’t it?” Ranboo said, pulling one of his pickaxes out. “If you want, I can do the mining if you hold my torch.” 

“Yeah!” Michael grabbed a torch and waved it around eagerly. “Careful!” Ranboo yelped. Michael just giggled.

“I’m going to mine this way.” Ranboo said, shaking his head. “Try and follow me pretty close, okay? And let me know if you see any mobs.” He pulled out his pickaxe before pausing. “Actually…”

He walked over to the chests and pulled out a stack of coal. “We’ve got a ton of this stuff, so I’m going to make a bunch of torches, okay? And you can place them behind us as we go. That way nothing will spawn.” 

“How far apart should I place them?” Michael watched him craft the torches, the bright firelight as they lit reflecting in his eyes.

“A few blocks, like six or seven, I think. Close enough together that it lights up the area, but far enough apart that you don’t use up all the torches.”

Ranboo started strip mining, his motions with the pickaxe quick and efficient. Michael followed, placing torches as he’d been instructed.

“You missed a diamond.” Michael commented, peering into a hole on the side of the strip mine.

“Did I really?” Ranboo walked back to where Michael was. “I did, didn’t I?” Michael grinned as Ranboo jumped down to get the diamond.

“See? I’m helping!”

Ranboo smiled. “You are helping!” He climbed back up onto the path and knelt down next to his son. “Here.” He said, pulling out the diamond. “This can be yours. You found it, after all.” Michael took the diamond with wide eyes, watching the way the torchlight shone, illuminating the jewel.

“It’s so pretty.” He whispered, entranced.

“Keep it safe.” Ranboo said. Michael tucked it into his inventory, the normally energetic boy looking unusually solemn.

“I will.”

The pair continued mining for a while, Michael obediently following Ranboo down the mine. Michael chattered on aimlessly about random topics, while Ranboo was content to listen and mine. Mostly.

“You missed some redstone.” Michael giggled. Ranboo sighed.

“I already told you, we don’t need any more redstone. We have tons in the chests back at the start of the mine alone, not to mention what your papa brought to the house. And my inventory’s getting full.”

“I can carry it!”

Ranboo eyed his son doubtfully. Already, he could see telltale signs of exhaustion - Michael was slumped over slightly, and he was lagging behind further than when they had started. His eyes were heavy, and even as Ranboo watched, Michael tried and failed to stifle a yawn.

“...we don’t need any more redstone.”

They kept going.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaad.”

“Yeah?”

“You missed more redstone.”

“I know. We don’t need it.”

They kept going.

“Daaad.”

“We don’t need redstone, Michael.” 

“That’s not what I was gonna say!”

“Oh?” Ranboo turned, one eyebrow raised.

“You missed some cobblestone.”

For a few silent moments, neither of them spoke, Ranboo staring at his son incredulously.

“...you’ve been spending too much time with your papa.”

“Have not!”

Ranboo rolled his eyes. He turned and broke another block. It shattered easily underneath the netherite pickaxe, revealing darkness beyond. Michael instantly perked up, intrigued.

“Dad, you found a cave!”

Ranboo hesitated, suddenly wondering if they should turn back. Caves meant mobs, after all, and they’d already been mining for quite a while. Certainly it was past Michael’s normal bedtime.

“Maybe we should head back, Michael.” Ranboo said, moving to replace the block. Michael was instantly in front of him.

“What!? But we just found this! C’mon, we can explore it! Please?” Ranboo stared down at his son, feeling as if he was fighting a war within himself. Michael looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“I’ll be careful, I promise! You can lead the way, and I’ll place torches! Please, dad?” 

Something inside Ranboo melted. Again. He really needed to get better at saying no to his son.

“Alright,” he said reluctantly, ignoring Michael’s joyous whoop, “But this is the last thing we do tonight, and then we head right home, alright? I don’t even want to hear a fuss about you going to bed.”

Michael nodded eagerly, peering out into the cave. Ranboo couldn’t squash the apprehension he felt at the sight.

Ranboo led the way, netherite sword glowing in the darkness. The mobs didn’t stand a chance - Ranboo was so tense he even missed a vein of gold ore, something Michael was only too happy to point out.

“Look! There’s some lava!” Michael dashed excitedly over to the lava pool, forgetting about placing torches.

“Careful.” Ranboo said absentmindedly, surveying for mobs. Satisfied there were none, he turned toward some lapis ore and pulled out his pickaxe.

And then, from over by the lava, he heard Michael give out a panicked shriek.

Ranboo could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating. Every instinct he had went off simultaneously. His sword appeared in his hand in an instant, pickaxe dropping to the ground as Ranboo whirled around. A zombie was approaching Michael, who was trapped at the edge of the lava pool. Ranboo had no idea how it had gotten there - he’d checked for mobs, he knew he checked - and it was getting closer and closer to Michael and Ranboo lunged with his sword but he was too far away and not fast enough and Michael took one step backward trying to get away but there was nothing behind him and Ranboo could only watch as his son tumbled into the lava.

Ranboo’s vision went completely blank. The sound that escaped him was some combination of scream, roar, and static, something that could be reproduced by no human. One instant he was standing next to the lapis ore, the next he was in the lava, a trail of purple particles behind him. He yanked Michael out of the lava and all but threw him onto the stone, allowing the enchantments on his armor to absorb any damage the lava might have done to him. In one fluid motion, he pulled himself up out of the lava and switched to his sword. The zombie died in just one hit, completely obliterated.

Ranboo whirled back toward his son, finding a water bucket in his inventory. He immediately doused them both, frantically checking Michael for injuries. Finding none, he clutched the child close to his chest, trying to ignore the pounding in his ears and the way his heart felt like it was trying to beat out of his ribcage.

It took an unknown amount of time for the panic blurring Ranboo’s vision to clear, for him to be able to see and realize that Michael wasn’t burned, was immune to lava, even. He was a zombie piglin from the nether, after all. He probably hadn’t even felt the heat. The zombie hadn’t been able to touch him - Ranboo had taken more damage throughout the whole encounter than Michael had.

It took longer for him to realize that he was shaking, that Michael was squirming in his arms and complaining about how his grip was too tight, that purple particles were still floating around him, as if summoned by his panic.

“I’m fine dad, see?” Michael continued to squirm, but now he was reaching for Ranboo’s face, too. It wasn’t until Micheal’s sleeve touched his cheek that Ranboo realized he was crying, that his tears were burning him and Michael’s frantic babbling meant that Michael was concerned about _him_ , of all things.

Ranboo rubbed at his cheeks, the sting of water on his skin helping ground him. He carefully blinked back the remainder of his tears, trying and failing to appear calm. The effort it took for him to release Michael and step back felt monumental.

“We’re going back.” Ranboo’s tone left no room for argument. Still, Michael tried.

“But nothing even happened! You killed the zombie, I’m fine-” Michael yelped as Ranboo picked him up and started walking back toward the strip mine. It wasn’t until Ranboo had the entrance to the cave blocked off that he set his son down.

“Aw, c’mon!” Michael was protesting. “I’m fine, see? Nothing happened, we can keep going!”

“No.” Ranboo felt lightheaded and dizzy and nauseous all at once at the thought of taking Michael back into that cave.

“But I’m fine! You know lava can’t hurt me, and you totally destroyed that zombie-”

“I said, no. Now are you going to walk back, or do I have to carry you?”

Michael pouted, but could sense that his tactic wasn’t going to work this time.

“I can walk.”

The walk back was quiet, the silence interrupted only by Michael’s occasional yawn. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he found his fatigue from the time spent mining starting to catch up with him.

Ranboo, on the other hand, seemed ready to jump out of his skin at the first hint of any trouble.

Thankfully, the return trip was uneventful, and the pair found themselves at the base of the staircase mob-free.

“Here, you can sit down for a minute.” Ranboo said, gesturing to the stairs. Michael went to protest, but the tense way his dad was holding himself and his own exhaustion made him think better of it.

“I’m just going to smelt the ore we found before we head back.” Ranboo explained, making sure Michael was comfortable. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

Michael just nodded blearily. It felt so nice to sit down, especially after walking for so long. The furnaces hummed comfortingly in the background, and he felt reassured by his dad’s presence as he watched him work.

He really was tired, even if he would never admit it to his dad. Maybe he should just close his eyes. Just for a minute. Just so he’d have energy for the return trip, that was all…

Ranboo watched over his son as he slept, looking away only to tend to the furnaces. Once everything was smelted, he gathered it all up into his inventory. Gingerly, he knelt by his son and scooped the sleeping boy into his arms. Michael shifted, but did not wake.

The walk back to Snowchester was quiet. The moon shone brightly in the sky, but even with the night shadows, no mobs bothered him.

That was good. He wasn’t sure he could handle anything else tonight.

Tubbo was waiting for him when he arrived. He instantly cooed at the sight of Michael sleeping in Ranboo’s arms.

“Oh, he looks so peaceful!” Tubbo whispered. He frowned at Ranboo as he strode through the house. “You alright, big man? You seem- you’ve been crying!” Tubbo was instantly at his side, near-jogging to try and match the taller man’s strides.

“I’ll explain in a bit.” Ranboo said, waving him off, surprised by how thick his voice still was. “I just want to get Michael to bed.” Tubbo nodded, clearly concerned. “I’ll meet you in the living room, yeah?”

Ranboo gave him a quick nod, and Tubbo quickly vanished into the house. He found Michael’s room and laid the sleeping piglin on the bed, careful not to wake him. He tucked him in gently. As he was leaving, he paused by the door, some irrational fear in him surging at the thought of leaving Michael alone. He swallowed and dismissed it. The house was safe. He knew it was.

That was the whole point of building it, after all.

Tubbo met him in the living room as promised. Tubbo had grabbed a healing potion, and was waiting by an armchair.

“Come over here.” He said, voice laced with exhaustion. “I’ll see if I can keep it from scarring.”

“Of course, can’t have you missing out on seeing my beautiful face everyday.” The joke didn’t quite land, too light in wake of Ranboo’s clear distress. He sighed and sat next to Tubbo, allowing him to dab healing potion on his face.

“You really did a number on yourself.” Tubbo said quietly, examining the injuries. “Mind telling me what happened?”

Ranboo exhaled shakily, still feeling like he was trying to process everything. “Nothing serious. I just-” He stopped and closed his eyes, aware that he was trembling again. Tubbo waited patiently for him to compose himself.

“A zombie went after Michael.” He said finally. “I checked the cave for mobs before we entered, but I think one must’ve spawned when I wasn’t looking. It had Michael cornered against a lava pool, and Michael fell in trying to get away, and I just-” 

He cut himself off and clenched his jaw, trying not to cry again. Tubbo said nothing, letting him continue at his own pace.

“I forgot.” Ranboo said finally, numbly. “He’s a piglin, he doesn’t even take damage from lava. But I just saw him fall, and and I panicked, and I-”

He cut himself off again as his voice broke. Tubbo handed him a towel and he held it against his eyes, trying to dry his tears before they touched his skin.

Tubbo hugged him. “I know.” He said quietly. “Having Michael… he’s so young, and it’s terrifying. What happened, the reaction you had, it’s completely normal. I would have done the exact same thing.” Ranboo pressed the towel even harder into his face.

“I just can’t lose him.” The enderman hybrid’s voice was muffled slightly by the towel, but no less emotional for it. “I can’t lose _you._ You, him, us - this family. It’s all I have left.” Tubbo gripped his partner tighter, silently grateful he’d grabbed extra healing potions.

He settled in next to Ranboo. He spent the night murmuring comfort _(shh, he’s okay, I’m okay, shhh, nothing’s going to happen, we’ll all be fine),_ and when Ranboo eventually fell asleep, both physically and emotionally exhausted, Tubbo poured healing potion on his face and disposed of the towel. He wasn’t strong enough to move the larger man without potentially waking him, so he just grabbed a few blankets and curled up next to him. Despite being on the couch, he couldn’t seem to get comfortable, and instead spent the night staring aimlessly up at the ceiling.

While healing potions might be able to take care of the scars on Ranboo’s face, Tubbo had no idea how to go about healing what truly needed it.


	2. Chapter 2

The chicken pecked halfheartedly at the pile of seeds on the ground. Michael was perched on a wooden chair, feet dangling above the ground, watching the pile slowly grow smaller and smaller. The sun shone through the window, brightly illuminating one of the many playrooms in Snowchester’s mansion.

The chicken squawked, making Michael jump. “I can’t let you out, y’know.” He informed the chicken. “Last time I let you out of your pen, you got feathers everywhere. Dad didn’t like that very much.” Michael paused, remembering the incident. “Papa thought it was really funny, though.” The chicken tilted it’s head, incomprehension in it’s beady black eye. It squawked again.

Michael groaned and made a show of sliding out of his chair onto the ground. He glared up at the ceiling. 

It was a beautiful day in Snowchester, and Michael was bored out of his mind.

Deciding that the chicken was no longer worth his time, Michael prowled through the halls of the mansion, hunting for something to occupy him. The mansion was huge, and full of secrets - both of his dads enjoyed hiding little tunnels or chests in the walls, in addition to numerous redstone contraptions - but Michael knew the entire mansion like the back of his hand. While exploring it was fun when he was younger, the halls now held a boring familiarity that lacked the fun of finding new secrets.

There was always exploring outside, of course, but Michael knew enough about outside to understand venturing out there without one of his parents was a bad idea. He didn’t always understand what they talked about (weren’t eggs just the things he occasionally found by the chickens?), but the way his parents always got tense and seemed to speak in hushed whispers whenever he mentioned it told him that the outside was something to avoid. His parents had even sat him down once with their serious faces on and told him very, very sternly to _never ever_ go outside by himself.

So while Michael didn’t completely understand why, he knew enough to respect the rule. It was the one thing his parents always insisted on and never joked about, and his dad in particular was very firm about it.

Still, days like these, it was difficult to ignore the temptation the outside world held.

Michael turned away from the window with a huff, suddenly becoming aware that he’d been staring outside for an abnormally long time.

Outside wasn’t an option, so what was?

The chicken was boring. Dad was out mining (again), and this time, Michael hadn’t been able to convince him to let him come, no matter how much he tried. Papa was…

What _was_ papa doing?

“Papa?” Michael called, his voice seemingly swallowed up by the halls of the mansion. He listened, but there was no response.

A mischievous grin found its way onto Michael’s face. This opportunity was too good to pass up.

He crept sneakily through the halls, now with a final goal in mind. He approached the melon farm, finding his papa’s nicely organized chests. He rifled through them, knocking over blocks and items as he did so. He pulled out a redstone torch triumphantly, turning back toward the farm and it’s carefully placed observers and pistons with a grin.

“What are you doing?”

Michael nearly lept out of skin at his papa’s voice, whirling around while trying to conceal the redstone torch behind his back. 

“Nothing!” He yelped hastily. His papa’s eyes narrowed.

“Michael, are you messing with the melon farm again.” It was less a question and more of a statement.

“No!” Michael made his eyes as wide and innocent as he could, wondering if there was any chance he could tuck the torch into his inventory without papa seeing it.

“Really?” Papa arched an eyebrow and put his hands on his hips. “Because it sure looks to me like you’re- what happened to my chests!?” Papa noticed the mess Michael had made and hurried over. “Michael!”

Michael edged slowly toward the pistons, gaze fixated on his papa’s back.

“Aw, Michael, these took me ages to organize.” Papa complained, sorting through the mess. “I swear, you’re worse than your dad sometimes.” He turned around, noticing too late that Michael was approaching the pistons. His eyes widened. “No, wait-”

Michael cackled in triumph as he placed the redstone torch. Instantly, the pistons started going crazy, shooting in and out. Michael snatched up the torch and made to sprint down the hall, but his papa managed to catch him before he could get away.

“ _Michael._ ” Tubbo groaned, watching the farm go haywire. “I just got done fixing that!” He gave Michael a pouty look. “You know how long it takes me to get this working properly again - Ugh, just look at this!” He stared at the farm in dismay, Michael giggling uncontrollably at his feet.

“Just for that,” Tubbo grumbled, “you can come help me with the bee sanctuary today.”

“What!” Michael jumped to his feet, already protesting. “But the bee sanctuary is boring!”

Tubbo gave him a look. “You know what you did wrong. At this rate, I’m just going to block off this room. I have no idea why you insist on breaking this thing over and over, but fixing it is just getting irritating.”

Michael shuffled his feet and shot a sly look at the pistons, which were still shooting in and out. “It’s funny.” He mumbled with a grin.

Tubbo sighed. “Funny for you, maybe. One of these days I’m going to teach you enough about redstone so that you can fix it yourself. It’ll give you something to do, anyway.”

Michael’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!”

Tubbo took one look at the mischievous look in his son’s eyes and immediately regretted that sentence. “On second thought, maybe teaching you about redstone isn’t the best idea. You manage to get yourself into enough trouble already.”

“I do not!”

Tubbo looked pointedly at the malfunctioning melon farm.

“That’s funny though! It was a…” Michael tilted his head, trying to remember the word he was looking for. “A prank!”

Tubbo leaned back, unimpressed. “Yes, but I still have to fix it. And since you clearly have nothing better to do other than figure out new ways to break this thing, you get to come help me with the bee sanctuary.”

“But papaaaaaa…”

“Nope. I don’t want to hear it.” Tubbo turned and strode out of the room, pausing at the door to wait for Michael. “C’mon.”

Michael sighed and followed. Once his papa got his mind set on something there was no changing it, and the steely look in Tubbo’s eyes informed him he wasn’t getting out of this one.

“Bees don’t even _do_ anything.” Michael grumbled, following his papa through the mansion. “They just float around.”

Tubbo put a hand over his heart and gasped, feigning offense. ”These words, coming from my son? This is slander, bee slander. I should’ve made you help me with this ages ago.”

“Nooooooooo.” Michael protested, intentionally dragging his feet. 

“Nonsense, it’s a great idea. Actually, now that I think about it, you’re getting old enough to start helping out more around here. It’s a big house, after all.”

“What!” Michael’s head shot up, eyes wide with panic. “No no no! I’ll stop messing with the melons, I promise!”

His papa gave him a teasing grin. “Ever heard of chores?”

“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” Michael flopped dramatically onto the ground. Tubbo chuckled at the theatrics.

“Fine, we’ll just stick to the bee sanctuary for today.”

Michael glared at him from his position on the floor.

“Oh c’mon, it’s not so bad.”

Michael didn’t move. Tubbo sighed.

“Really, Michael?”

Micheal stubbornly stayed put.

“If you don’t get up, you have to go to bed an hour earlier tonight.”

Michael shot upwards into a seated position.

“What! That’s not fair!”

“It is fair, because I’m your papa and I say it is. Now let’s go.”

Michael glared at him for a moment before giving in. He made a show of standing up, dramatically picking himself up as Tubbo watched. 

The pair made their way to the bee sanctuary without further incident, though Michael was decidedly less than enthusiastic. Tubbo hummed to himself as they walked, seemingly oblivious to the not-quite-tantrum Michael was having.

“Here we are!” Tubbo exclaimed, throwing open the door to the bee sanctuary. Sunlight flowed through the glass, brightly illuminating a vibrant garden. Dozens of large bumblebees buzzed around, moving from flower to flower. Small rivers flowed throughout, the clear water sparkling in the sun. It was warm, too - while torches burned throughout the mansion, and Ranboo and Tubbo did their best to heat the place, it was near-impossible to maintain heating in such a large building, especially given the biome in which it was located. The bee sanctuary, however, had a heat and humidity to it that couldn’t be found anywhere else in Snowchester. It was like a mini jungle.

“I’ve been in here before.” Michael grumbled, clearly unimpressed. Tubbo rolled his eyes.

“Well obviously, but it’s always fun to see again! Especially when it’s been awhile.” Tubbo ushered Michael into the room, closing the door behind them. “It looks so nice, doesn’t it? Especially since we added- Ranboo.” Tubbo cut himself off with an exasperated huff, noticing a stray grass block that was decidedly out of place.

Michael giggled at his papa’s annoyance. He glanced around the room.

“What do you even _do_ in here?” Tubbo rolled his eyes as he removed the grass block. 

“Here, I’ll show you.” 

Tubbo walked over to a chest and pulled out empty bottles, shears, sticks, and a flint and steel. “C’mere.” He called to Michael, walking toward the center of the dome. Michael followed him with a sigh.

“Look at the bees.” Tubbo said, gesturing to the yellow-and-black creatures that were flying from flower to flower.

“I’m looking.” Michael deadpanned. Tubbo glanced at him in annoyance.

“Look at what they’re _doing._ Do you see how some of them have yellow dust on them and others don’t?”

Michael squinted. Now that Tubbo pointed it out, he could see that some of the bees did indeed have yellow spots covering them, and even had a dust trail following them as they flew through the air.

“Yeah.”

“Awesome!” Tubbo bounced up and down excitedly. “That yellow dust is called pollen. The bees are collecting it from the flowers, and bringing it back to the hives.” Michael stared at his papa, completely incredulous.

“They get that from the _flowers?”_

“Yep! Look right at the center of the flower.” Tubbo gestured to one of the tulips. Michael leaned in closer, and sure enough, he could see some of the yellow dust covering the stems inside the flower.

“But there’s so little of it.” Michael said, looking from the bees to the flower and back again. “How do they get so much?”

Tubbo laughed. “They’re really good at collecting it! Plus, we have a bunch of flowers here for that very purpose.”

“But why?” Michael asked. Tubbo’s eyes lit up.

“I’ll show you! Come over here.” Michael followed his papa over to the beehives, curious despite himself. His papa was practically vibrating with energy, beaming as he approached the hives. “Look at this.” Tubbo whispered, gesturing to the hive.

Honey, thick and sweet, was practically dripping from the weathered wood. Upon closer inspection, Michael could see different layers of honeycombs that descended deep into the hive.

“Bees take the pollen they collect and turn it into honey.” Tubbo explained. “Now we can go through and collect it so that they have enough space in the hive to make more.”

“How do they do it?” Michael asked, entranced. Any efforts he might have been making to stay angry at his papa had been long abandoned.

“I’m not sure.” Tubbo admitted. “But that’s the fun, isn’t it? If we knew how to do it, we wouldn’t need the bees.”

“I guess.” Michael was clearly dissatisfied with the answer, peering deeper into the hive as if by looking deep enough it would reveal its secrets. Tubbo just chuckled.

“Here, I’ll show you how to collect it.”

Tubbo knelt down beneath the hive and started placing sticks in a teepee formation. “We have to light a fire beneath the hive.” He explained as he worked. “We need it for the smoke. If we don’t light the fire, the bees will get mad at us for taking the honey.” He eyed Michael. “I think you’ll find it’s a common trait among people, too. If you take something that doesn’t belong to you - or break something that someone else worked hard on - they’re going to get irritated.”

Michael blinked twice, making his eyes as large and innocent as he could.

“I know.”

Tubbo snickered. “Sure you do. Anyway,” He continued before Michael could protest, “The smoke from the fire calms down the bees so they won’t attack us.”

“So if I set things on fire, people won’t get mad when I take their stuff?”

“ _No!_ ” Tubbo yelped, alarmed. Michael exploded in laughter at the look on his papa’s face. “No.” Tubbo repeated, calmer. “This strategy only works on bees, I’m afraid.” Michael just snickered, amused.

“ _Anyway._ ” Tubbo continued, ignoring his son. He used the flint and steel to light the sticks he’d placed on fire. “Once you’ve got your fire started, you’re good to start harvesting the honey.” He handed Michael an empty bottle.

“Watch me do it first, then you can try.”

Michael carefully observed his papa as he worked the honey into the bottle. Once he was done, Michael eagerly approached the hive. It took him a few tries, and he spilled quite a bit of honey on the side of the bottle, but in the end he successfully filled the bottle full of the sweet liquid.

“There you go!” Tubbo cheered. “Here, I’ll clean off the bottle for you.” He was able to get most of the honey off in the water that flowed through the garden, though some spots on the side of the bottle remained stubbornly sticky.

“That’s about as clean as it’s going to get.” Tubbo said, handing the bottle back to Michael. “I’ll let you keep that one, yeah? You earned it.”

Michael accepted the bottle with wide eyes, tucking it into his inventory.

Tubbo handed him some more bottles, as well as materials to make the small campfires. “You keep collecting honey in the bottles, I’m going to harvest some honeycomb. We’ve got a lot of hives here, so we better get to it.”

For the next few hours, father and son worked side-by-side in the sanctuary, harvesting honey and making idle conversation. By the time they were done, the sun dipped low toward the horizon, and bright sunset colors shone through the windows of the glass dome.

“I think that’s enough for today.” Tubbo said, stretching. “I’ll go put this honey in storage. Thanks for all your help!”

Michael grumbled under his breath, unwilling to admit that he’d enjoyed it. Tubbo smiled anyway, like he knew what Michael was thinking.

“It’s getting close to your bedtime, anyway. How about we turn in for the night?”

“Noooooooo.” Michael complained. “I’m not tired!”

“You’re swaying on your feet. Now c’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

“I don’t wanna.” Michael muttered, but followed his papa anyway.

Tubbo tucked him gently into bed, humming as he did so. Michael didn’t put up much of a fuss, more tired than he was willing to admit. “Good night.” Tubbo said softly, closing the door behind him.

Michael waited until he couldn’t hear his papa’s footsteps before sliding out of bed.

He crept stealthily toward a bookcase and pushed a button that was hidden behind one of the novels. Part of the wall slid back, revealing a hidden compartment.

Michael didn’t know if his parents knew about the secret spot in the wall. They had built the mansion, sure, but there were so many secrets even he couldn’t keep track of them all. Plus his dad was rather infamous for his memory.

The compartment contained only a few objects, but Michael treasured all of them. The first thing he’d ever put in there was a few nuggets of gold he’d stolen from a chest.

Michael took things all the time, that was no secret. Between his tendency to break anything redstone-related he touched and a natural mischievous nature, it wasn’t uncommon for things to go missing when he was around. But Michael never took things with the intent to keep them, and it was certainly never malicious. But the gold… the gold was different. He’d almost had to restrain himself when taking it, and some instinct deep inside of him urged him to keep it, keep it and never tell anyone about it.

It was strange, but the urge to hoard it was strong enough that Michael wasn’t sure these particular nuggets were ever making their way back to the original owner.

The second thing he’d hidden away was a book, written and signed by his father. Reading it had been a struggle (Michael had inherited his papa’s difficulty with the written language, unfortunately), but he now knew the words by heart.

> _This is Michael. He is my son. Tubbo is my husband. I love them both. Don’t ever forget._

Michael had never seen his dad more serious than when he handed him that book. _Don’t ever lose this._ He’d said, hands trembling as he gave it to Michael. _If I ever act like I don’t know you, or am just acting weird, promise you’ll give this to me, okay? Promise._

Michael had promised. He hadn’t understood then, and still didn’t, but he kept the book safe anyway. Something about his dad had been very off that night, and it had scared Michael more than he cared to admit.

The third item hidden in the compartment was the diamond his dad had given him when they’d gone mining together. The memory of the trip made him smile every time he saw it.

Michael carefully added the bottle of honey to stash and surveyed the rest of the object to make sure that everything was in order. Satisfied by what he saw, he pressed the button again, closing up the wall.

When he curled back up on his bed, he was exhausted but content. Satisfied, he allowed sleep to claim him, happy with the promise of more good days to come.


End file.
